


The Mechanic

by ThrawnaDelRey



Series: The Mechanic [1]
Category: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrawnaDelRey/pseuds/ThrawnaDelRey
Summary: Thanks for reading! I was inspired by the "Western" writing prompt for #RoseTicoMonth on Twitter.I wanted Rose's identity to remain a "secret" until the very end, in keeping with the "man-with-no-name" archetype found in most westerns. Once that was established, everything else fell into place. You have your saloon, ruffians intruding on the party, and a classic standoff.I'm working on a follow up story based off of the "Memento" writing prompt. It'll focus more on Rose's thoughts/feelings and have more direct references to canon.
Series: The Mechanic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588543
Kudos: 1





	The Mechanic

“So what’ll it cost me?” Sul’Za Brora spat through the tentacles covering his mandibles. _Of course this would happen tonight, of all nights._  


Sandwiched between the Outpost’s mining facility and the only refinery on the small moon, Sul’Za’s Cantina was used to the heavy influx of patrons. But tonight was the end of the week--when the mines were closed and the factories were shut down; when the only places allowed to use significant amounts of power were the cantinas, brothels, and offices of the governing authorities.  


“Depends,” the mechanic said, wiping their grease-covered hands in a crusty rag.  


“Depends on what?”  


“On how good your manners are.”  


Sul’Za was about to say something but the Quarren was immediately cut off when a Dowutin miner tossed a visibly inebriated Abednedo into some patrons playing dejarik. “Manners, eh?”  


The mechanic half smiled.  


Without breaking eye contact, Sul’Za called over his shoulder, “Blast it, Korxu, if I have to hear ‘Mad About Me’ one more time in this place, you’ll be the next one tossed!” The Bravaisian musician squawked nervously before he began playing something less familiar. “So are you gonna fix the washer or not? I can only serve so many dirty glasses before the miners notice.”  


“200 rupayas and it’ll run better than the day you bought it.”  


The Quarren’s tentacles flicked in a sign of resignation. “Just do it. I can’t afford another write up from the inspection-droid.”  


The mechanic seemed like they were about to say something, then stopped themselves, before ducking back under the bar to get to work.  


Sul’Za’s eyes scanned the room. Weekends were always busy, but he swore he’d never seen so many sentients shoulder to shoulder. Then again, the mines had never been busier. Say what you want about the dire state of the galaxy, at least it brought in enough credits to keep the lights on. 

A sweeping hush fell over the room--the only sounds coming from patrons still nursing their wounds under the boots of bigger patrons standing over them--and Korxu, who was still playing his instruments, oblivious to the three armored silhouettes standing in the doorway.  


“Welcome, friends!” Sul’Za called across the room. “Take a seat at the bar and I’ll be right with ya!” He shooed away two Rodians in front of him, who were obviously nowhere near finished with their drinks.  


“That’s quite alright, Sul’Za” the man in the middle called back, “this won’t take long.” The patrons began to open up as the three silhouettes moved closer to the front of the bar.  


“How can I help you? Sul’Za’s Cantina might not look like much, but we got it where it counts!”  


The middle man slapped a holo-cube on the bar. “You seen this human?” The blue image flickered to life, revealing an all too familiar face.  


Sul’Za gulped. These armored sentients were mercenaries; bounty hunters. They held no authority, but nothing would stop them from putting a crater in his chest. What could he do? The inspection-droid would be here tomorrow. If his washer wasn’t fixed tonight, he’d lose his cantina. He’d lose everything. “I.. uh..” the Quarren stumbled, sweat trickling down his tentacles.  


The man in the middle reached across the bar and grabbed Sul’Za by his collar, their blaster digging under his mandibles. “Listen, you slimy little squid. If I find out you’re hiding something from me…”  


Just then a small hand appeared from under the bar, grabbed the hunter’s wrist, and brought it down over the edge of the counter. The bounty hunter dropped his gun and pulled back his broken arm, croaking in shock. The mechanic rose up from behind the bar, newly acquired blaster pointed at the group.  


“You boys looking for someone?”  


The unharmed bounty hunters pointed their blasters at the mechanic, visibly shaken by the sudden attack.  
“There’s still two of us left.”  


“I like my odds.”  


Sul’Za snorted. He motioned behind the unwelcome mercenaries. They turned to see the gap the patrons had formed earlier had closed. Now there was nowhere left for them to move.  


“Next rounds on them.” With that, the mechanic stunned them. As soon as their limp bodies hit the floor, the cantina erupted in cheers. Korxu began playing ‘Mad About Me’, and the now armorless-hunters were tossed out the front door.  


“Washer’s fixed. Now, about my pay...”

The mechanic stepped over the drooling, naked bodies outside the cantina, counting a sizable bag of local currency; more than enough to hire the Duwotin miner for a lift off the desolate moon.  


Just then the communicator in her back pocket began to beep. “Hello?”  


“Commander? What’s your status?”  


Rose Tico eyed her bag. “Green. Very green.”  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I was inspired by the "Western" writing prompt for #RoseTicoMonth on Twitter. 
> 
> I wanted Rose's identity to remain a "secret" until the very end, in keeping with the "man-with-no-name" archetype found in most westerns. Once that was established, everything else fell into place. You have your saloon, ruffians intruding on the party, and a classic standoff.
> 
> I'm working on a follow up story based off of the "Memento" writing prompt. It'll focus more on Rose's thoughts/feelings and have more direct references to canon.


End file.
